


Shoot For The Stars

by dean_chester



Category: Original Works
Genre: Gen, old west au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 15:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_chester/pseuds/dean_chester
Summary: Allen’s in a saloon with his godfather when somebody he’s never seen before walks in. the funny thing is, he’s the only man in the place whose never heard of Ol’ Union Jack. His Napoleon complex gets the best of him and he approaches this stranger to show he’s got balls.





	Shoot For The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a silly little thing i did for fun  
> charles belongs to my friend

The floorboards creak as somebody entered the saloon. Allen turned his head to see who it was, tipping his hap upwards to get a better view. The old boards always creak, nothing new, but the lobby fell silent this time.

What he saw was a tall, pale man with dusty hair and tired eyes of two colors. Just a plain white shirt underneath a faded maroon vest. String bow around his neck. He looked almost out of place; the only thing keeping him connected to everybody was that holster around his hip.

Allen watched the man stand by the bar to order quickly. Once his drink was given to him, he downed it rather quickly, paid for it, and sat at an open table. 

“...Who’s that?” Allen asked his godfather Charles.

“Ain’t never heard of Ol’ Union Jack?” Charles chuckled. “Man’s from Britain. Hence the name. ‘S a real sharpshooter! Better than most men in the county.”

“That so?” Allen scoffed. “I bet he ain’t no better than me!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid. Word says he’s the half brother of a Prussian general. Can’t get any more tough than that.” Another man hissed like a kettle. “Hell, with his size alone he’d prolly squash you like a bug!”

“Puh!” Allen sneered, crossing his arms. “I could take ‘im. Watch me!”

Allen stood up and began to approach Jack’s table, so many patrons began betting or crossing themselves and praying for Allen’s poor soul. Jack was the polar opposite of Al. The boy’s godfather covered his eyes.

Once he loomed over the small table, his throat ran dry. He forgot what he was going to say. Oh, Lord.


End file.
